Steve x Reader: Facing Demons

Steve x Reader: Facing Demons

The world was on fire. Terrified screams filled the air as charred rubble cascaded from countless buildings, completely removing the cloudy sky from view. Eruption after eruption exploded; large chunks of stone freefell to crumble atop those who were unlucky enough to still be standing. It was an unstoppable maelstrom of death. Thick cloying smoke burned (F/n)’s lungs as she fought to run through the destruction. The acrid fumes made her choke as she frantically let her eyes swivel to her surroundings. Nothing was familiar to her bleary gaze, and she knew that most, if not all of her comrades were long dead.

The woman sprinted through the devastating wreckage, looking for any survivors. From her arm poured a steady stream of blood, but she did her best to ignore it. It was just a scratch; or so she had told herself, when she had first wrapped it in the ripped fabric of her former jacket. The cut on her arm was starting to go blessedly numb, and she tried her best not to think of it.

In the woman’s undamaged hand, she held a handgun. Her pale fingers clenched around the weapon tightly, as she kept on high alert. She was here to offer aid to those in need, but she also had no delusions. This was a battlefield and she wouldn’t be safe until she was called into retreat.

(F/n) slowed down from her brisk pace, gasping for breath as she took a moment. This part of the city was abandoned, having been the first place attacked. It was empty, save for the corpses that littered the streets. She could see several human limbs sticking out from underneath the massive stones of the former structures, and her heart rose to her mouth. The stench of decay was heavy here, and the metallic aroma of blood made her stomach twist. It was a blessing she had nothing left inside her.

(F/n) breathed in sharply, as her lungs fought against her, but she shouldered back her fatigue. She had to keep going. When she had split off from her fellow S.H.I.E.L.D members, the woman had vowed to find those who’d been left behind. She had every intention of keeping her word.

The woman began to walk again, her boot clad feet hitting the uneven ground loudly, as she moved laboriously. . . and then she heard it. At first, it was just a hushed white noise, having mixed in with the screams that wafted from deeper in the city. But as (F/n) listened, she realized it was the sound of someone weeping. This sound made the woman’s heart clench in pain, as she automatically empathized with the unseen one who cried. The sobs were far more horrific than even the far off screams, though the volume of the weeping was low.

(F/n) focused on the cries, and found her feet moving without a thought. For a full minute she searched, until she rounded a corner to find the cryer. There, huddled on the ground was a boy, no more than 8 years old. His clothes were torn and covered in dust and blood, and his face was stained by his countless tears. But it was the thing he mourned over that made the woman drop to her knees.

The boy cradled a little girl in his shaking arms. The girl was a toddler around 3 years old, by the look of it. The sight of her was the stuff of nightmares. Her little body was bent at strange angles, while her face rested in a terrified position, as if she had suffered greatly before she died. The corpse hung awkward and limp, covered in blood and bodily fluids, but still the boy did not let her go. His weeping was the sound of one utterly tormented, as he finally bled out himself and died along with his baby sister.

(F/n) rushed to the children, and found her shaking fingers looking for a pulse point. She found none. They were both gone. She had failed them and herself.

The woman felt hot tears splash her pallid cheeks, as she brought the boy and girl into her lap. She held them in either arm, begging them to come back. But they didn’t heed her. They would never come back.

Lifeless little eyes stared into a heaven that was devoid of color or light, as the world continued to burn.

Three months later. . .

(F/n) jolted upright in her bed, her skin clammy with cold sweat and fear. Her breath came out in shaky exhales as she fought to slow her heartbeat. The covers and sheets constricted her as she fought- choking her as she tried to free herself.

Every night since Ultron had destroyed Sokovia, (F/n) had been plagued by the hellish nightmare. It was always the same: the two children lying dead in her arms, as the world burned around them. The horrifying memory that had now turned into the worst kind of  night terror.

Ultron had been defeated by the Avengers on that fateful day, and life had gone back to normal for most of the world. But (F/n) found that a part of her had been left behind in that desolated city, surrounded by the nameless dead and injured. As an active member of S.H.I.E.LD.  and one of the four accepted liaisons for the Avengers Initiative, (F/n) had experienced her fair share of skirmishes. She had witnessed death many times before. . . but this time had left its mark on her. This time it wasn’t a scumbag criminal who deserved it, or a terrorist unit that was a threat to her country. It was innocent men, women, and children that had paid the price of Ultron’s vision. And there was no going back.

(F/n) felt a solemn tear slide down her jawline, as she finally caught her breath. For a long time, the woman held her head in her hands and counted. With each number she fought to calm herself a little more. Her therapist had expressed that it was a centering exercise, made to help a person relax. Though as of yet, it had done quite little to help.

The young woman inhaled deeply, cradling her head as she slowly rocked back and forth. Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest, as she felt a cry rip past her clenched teeth. She fought to swallow the tears that threatened to overwhelm her, but she was too late. As soon as the first sob escaped her, she was unable to reign in the rest.

She slowly slumped backward onto the bed, gasping in-between salty tears as she cried violently. The agonized faces of the children flickered past her troubled conscious as she mourned for them. Every night she awoke from her night terror and cried until the sky grew light and the birds began to sing. Tonight was no exception.

(F/n) wept until her eyes grew dry and her body stopped shaking. Then, she rose and got ready for the day. Fury had requested her presence that morning for a debriefing, and she couldn’t be late. The woman showered and dressed deliberately,  hoping that one day she might be alright. . . that one day it might not hurt so much. Though as she soundlessly exited the Avengers compound, where she lived, she doubted that happiness might ever find her again.

It was almost 7 o’clock on the dot, when (F/n) entered the safehouse. Well, ‘safehouse’ might have been a stretch by most definitions of the word, but it was what it was.

The safehouse was a sleazy pub off the beaten path, in a raunchy part of town. The building was an eyesore, and held the promise of easily being the biggest fire hazard within the vicinity.  Looking at the bar, one would never have thought that it was government owned and financed. It was dilapidated and altogether grungy to behold, but inside, past the bar and well stocked backroom, rested a S.H.I.E.L.D. treasure trove. Fury often gave his field agents their assignments here, or housed them here when they were under cover.

(F/n) barely glanced at her surroundings as she stalked through the entrance. She ignored the bar bums who were already drinking their breakfast from chipped glasses at the counter. The woman lifted her eyes up to meet the bartenders briefly, who gave her a minute nod, as she moved behind the counter and into the backroom.

(F/n) strode through the countless freezers, refrigerators, and shelves, coming to one freezer door in the very back. She knocked on it four distinct times, before lifting her eyes up to a camera that hovered above the doorway. After several seconds, the door clicked open and she was allowed entry.

The locker was a wonderland of equipment, guns, and tech. On one end, there were several beds set up, while in the opposite corner a table and chairs had been placed. In one of these chairs, a familiar figure sat at ease. (F/n) stopped for a breath, surprised, before she continued forward on silent feet.

“Steve?” Then realizing her informality, she corrected herself. “Captain Rogers.”

Steve Rogers, otherwise known as Captain America,  lifted his blue eyes to regard the woman, nodding to her in welcome. “(F/n).”

(F/n) hesitantly took a seat beside the legendary man, self-consciously crossing her legs as they sat in silence for a moment. (F/n) actually knew Steve quite well, after having worked with him on a handful of missions before the Ultron incident. She’d actually considered him a friend and ally for a while now. Hell, she’d even been invited to stay at the Avengers compound, when her apartment had been destroyed during the Battle of New York! But since Sokovia, (F/n) had isolated herself, and she hadn’t spoken to Captain America or the others in quite sometime, despite living in the same compound.

The woman was surprised by how awkward it felt to sit with him now. Not long ago, she’d had no trouble engaging in conversation with the man. . . But it had all changed.

Finally, when it became too much, the woman broke the calm with a question.

“Are you here to meet Fury too?”

Steve shook his head. (F/n) wasn’t going to press the issue past that point, but he clarified anyway. “I’m actually here to speak with you.”

(F/n) shifted emotionless eyes to the hero, giving him her full attention. “What can I do for you, Captain Rogers?”

He smiled at her, lifting a brow at the title she bestowed upon him. “Steve,” he offered.

After a moment (F/n) acquiesced, “Steve. . . What’s up?”

The First Avenger was quiet for a moment, picking his words with care, before he answered her question with one of his own. “How are you holding up, (F/n)?”

The woman felt her heart clench as the children’s faces flashed before her eyes. “I’m fine.” The lie was fresh between her teeth, but she couldn’t tell him the truth. Not when it still hurt so much.

Steve’s eyes were unwavering as he studied her face. From the way his eyes changed, it was clear that he didn’t believe her. The woman felt the smallest twinge of guilt, but kept her thoughts to herself.

Steve was silent for a breath longer, before he reached out a hand to place on her forearm. The initial contact surprised (F/n), but it was pleasant enough once she got used to it. His hand was incredibly large and soft, despite the strength he possessed. He was perfectly gentle, and gave her enough leeway to shrug away from his touch, if she was so inclined. She didn’t move.

“(F/n),” he sighed softly. “I know you’ve been having some problems lately.”

The woman felt her stomach tighten at his admission, before she sobered. Of course he’d know. All of her associates were most likely aware by now.

“Fury got my file from my therapist, didn’t he?”

Steve shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah, he did.”

“And you read it?”

“No,” he interjected calmly. “But Fury approached me and explained what you were going through. . . He knew I was worried about you, after the mission in Sokovia. So he told me.”

(F/n) was silent for what felt like a lifetime. In truth, most people would have been upset about their privacy being invaded, but (F/n) merely felt drained by the information. Working for an agency like S.H.I.E.L.D. it was common for the agent’s privacy to be encroached upon. In the case of an emergency or internal leak, Fury would often take it upon himself to check the mental and physical well being of his operatives. It was nothing new to (F/n). Though this time proved to be different.

“Am I being suspended,” the woman asked, without emotion, already guessing the answer.

“No,” Steve shook his head. “You’re being sidelined from active duty.”

(F/n)’s eyes slid closed. A desk job. It was both degrading and relieving. She’d needed a break from it all, and in an offbeat way, she was getting her wish.

“That’s why Fury wanted to meet me here.” It wasn’t a question, merely an observation.

“Yes, though I asked to come in his stead.” The man smiled at her gently once more, his hand squeezing her forearm comfortingly. “I had a proposition for you.”

The woman felt numb, as she looked at the handsome soldier before her. But she didn’t show it. “I’m all ears, Rogers.”

“You’re an extremely talented field agent, (F/n),” he complimented. “Even with what’s happened, S.H.I.E.L.D. will feel the loss of you, as will the Team.” By ‘the team’ he meant his fellow Avengers.

“I’m not fit for active duty, Steve,” (F/n) said. “I’ve known it since Sokovia. . . I just didn’t know how to admit it to anyone. . . I’m okay to be done.”

Steve’s deep blue eyes focused on her, before asking, “Done? Permanently?”

She shrugged. “If Fury doesn’t want me back. But what proposition did you have for me?”

“Well. . . Would you ever consider coming to be a full-time trainer and sparring partner at the compound?” At her lifted eyebrows, Steve added quickly, “I spoke to Tony about it and we think you’d be a good fit. You already live in the compound and we’d be willing to match the salary that S.H.I.E.L.D. contracted you for.”

“Why would you offer me such a position, Steve,” she wondered aloud, after several minutes of silent contemplation. “You can run and fight circles around me, as can most, if not all of the Avengers. Surely you could find someone else who’s more qualified?”

Steve smiled at her and shook his head. “We don’t want anyone else, (F/n). I don’t want anyone else. We all know and trust you- that’s worth its weight in gold. Besides, friends have to look out for each other. Don’t they?”

(F/n) felt several tears trickle down her pale cheeks as she absently nodded her agreement. Captain America studied her for a breath before he slowly pulled her into a hug. After some hesitation, the woman wrapped her arms around the giant man in return.

She cried soundlessly, as they embraced, though she couldn’t help the soft gasp that she emitted when the first avenger whispered, “You aren’t alone, (F/n). . . and the nightmares won’t last forever.”

“How can you be sure?” She whispered back, leaning her chin to rest in the crook of his shoulder and neck.

“Because our demons can only overpower us for so long, before we fight back. And you’re a world class fighter. You’ll overcome this, just like you’ve overcome all the rest.”

(F/n) said nothing as they continued to hug. Though deep down, as they left the bar together some 30 minutes later, the woman prayed that Steve was right.

(F/n) felt her eyes growing heavy as she fought the clutches of sleep. It had been three days since she’d been sidelined by Fury. Three days of working with Steve, Tony, and the rest, as a personal trainer. Three days since she’d allowed herself to fall asleep.

With her new position, (F/n) had been moved into new rooms in the compound. She was only two doors down from Steve- which she suspected was due to request- and had been afforded every luxury.  Including a king sized memory foam mattress that was to die for. It seemed to call her name, as she rocked herself back and forth in an attempt to stay awake. For a time, she zoned it all out, and was lost to her thoughts.

It was only when (F/n) felt a pair of strong arms lifting her up, sometime later, that she became aware of the world again.

“What are you doing?” She asked in a quiet voice, as Steve carried her easily through her living quarters.

“Figured you could use a helping hand to get tucked in,” he joked, as he purposefully placed the fatigued woman on the ultra soft bed. “You can’t go another night without sleep.”

As (F/n) sprawled out, where she’d been placed, Steve sat on the edge of the bed. For a moment, they were both silent before (F/n) tearfully admitted, “I’m afraid, Steve….”

Steve took her hand in his own, before leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “I know, (F/n).”

“Will you stay with me,” she asked, looking up at him imploringly. “While I face my demons?”

Steve looked at her with what appeared to be pride, before he gently chucked her chin with his thumb. “Scoot over, while I turn out the lights.”

(F/n) gratefully did as he bid her, and when the room was flooded in darkness, she could feel his arms reach out for her. The woman sighed as Steve Rogers held her close, and for the first time since Sokovia, (F/n) felt at peace.

 

~FIN~